


we make the only permanent tenderness.

by anakinleias



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Stars on Ice 2018, heteros on their bullshit, it was on purpose we been knew, shit happens, stoolgate, you already know what this is about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 13:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anakinleias/pseuds/anakinleias
Summary: “You know what I meant. You kicked the stool and set all this in motion.”





	we make the only permanent tenderness.

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't write rpf", I say, whilst writing rpf. Inspired by a twitter convo with Ann and Alex after Tessa Did The Damn Thing.
> 
> I legit wrote this as soon as the show ended and finished in like 3 hours while writing another fic along with this one. Big thanks to the usual suspects that I'm always pestering and yelling at when I write. English is not my first language so all mistakes are mine, feel free to call me out on them.
> 
> Tessa, if you somehow found a way to make an account and you're reading this I'm sorry. Also calm down perhaps.

Their families and friends never let them forget it. As soon as they announce it, neither do the fans. 

They endure what feels like the most ridiculous amount of teasing, the jabs and jokes about their “tour baby” and even their mothers end up joining in as they recall their behaviour during one of the performances they attended. 

Everything can be traced back to Vancouver, to beginnings and endings, to that last night of tour when the atmosphere between them during the performance was at once both subdued and overly charged. It was in the way she fisted his shirt while pushing him backwards into the stool, it was in the way she kicked it away, the way he was completely driven to distraction and forgot he was supposed to be sitting down. 

(Their roles were reversed later that night. Lips fused together, he’d clutched one hand at the front of her dress while the other bunched it up around her hips, pushing her down on the bed and getting to his knees.) 

The craze that it ended up causing on the internet has finally quieted down by the time they’re back in Japan from the Gold Medal Plates trip, and then she’s peeing on the stick that will forever change their lives. 

 

The doctor estimates the date of conception somewhere around her birthday, and Scott spends the entire car ride laughing. At first, she's unamused, slapping his chest every time he looks at her from the corner of his eye and snickers. 

“This is on you, you know,” he briefly sobers up, extending a hand over the console to rest it over her still flat stomach. 

“Excuse you?” Her eyes narrow, her own hand coming to rest against his, grabbing his fingers  _ just-so _ . 

He winces, whether at her tone or her grip. “You know what I meant. You kicked the stool and set all this in motion.”

She’s opening her mouth to protest before he changes their hold, interlacing their fingers together before bringing it up to her lips. 

“There was also the other thing,” he trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving her a pointed look. “Don’t look at me like I impregnated you all by myself, you know exactly what you did that night.”

She can’t help but grin against the back of his hand at the memory, recalling the wonderful day filled with birthday wishes and an emotional video from the fans that had left her weeping with love and gratitude for the better part of an hour. 

Then she recalls how they’d chosen to celebrate after the show, how he spent what felt like a lifetime between her legs that night, bringing her close over and over until she felt like dying, the weightlessness when he finally let her fall. Remembers the slow but forceful way he’d taken her that night, dragging it out once again. How he’d mumbled “happy birthday” between her lips as she gasped and panted into his mouth, stars bursting behind her eyelids. Remembers wrapping her legs tightly around him when he tried to pull out of her, how she couldn’t bring herself to let him go even after they were finished. 

Blinking a few times, she places a kiss against his knuckles before bringing their joined hands back to rest against her stomach. 

“Fine, I accept my part of the blame,” she says with an air of suffering, reclining against the seat and closing her eyes in contentment. 

 

Victoria Leigh Virtue-Moir enters the world on February 20 with 3.6kg, 49cm and the most powerful set of lungs they’d ever witnessed. The room is filled with crying; their mothers hug each other, tears streaming down their cheeks. Tessa cries and laughs and cries again, their baby whimpering against her chest. Scott cries watching them, cries watching Tessa watch her, cries when his mother and Kate both pull him between them into a hug as they talk about being so happy and so proud. 

One of the perks of how amazingly Tessa took care of herself before and during her pregnancy ends up being the fact that they’re able to leave the hospital a few hours later. She reclines on the couch with the sleeping baby, unwilling to part with her just yet. Scott puts their bags away as their mothers retreat to the kitchen to give the new parents a few moments and make them all dinner. 

Afterwards, Tessa finally introduces the nursery to its newest occupant, laying her gently on the changing table and grabbing a fresh diaper. Scott watches over her shoulder, passing her the baby powder and cleaning up after she finishes, both of them just staring at their little girl in amazement. She shifts slowly, bringing a mittened fist up to rest on the side of her face, her little belly rising and falling with every breath. 

An idea comes to her, so she sends Scott to retrieve what they need. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, she snaps a few photos and sends it on the groupchat they’d created to update the rest of their families. He hadn’t even complained, happily got over his feelings for technology and social media in favour of sending their families random pictures of the newest sonogram and even video of the appointment where they found out the sex. 

When Scott comes back, she places their medals carefully near the little feet covered by the foot of the onesie, taking another photo before putting them away. 

Loading up Instagram, she doesn’t bother to log out of his account and into her own, uploading the photo. Scott watches over her shoulder, rocking the baby in the crook of his arm. She’ll repost from her own account later when they come up with everything they want to say; for now, he hums in agreement as she messes around with filters and whispers a few sentences for her to type down. 

Looking down at the sleeping infant, he lifts his head and places a kiss on the side of Tessa’s head, inhaling the scent of her hair now infused with the smell of their baby. 

In the end, it’s a simple caption:  _ Victoria. Our new great journey. _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sonnet Ix: There Where The Waves Shatter by Pablo Neruda.
> 
> Constructive criticism is appreciated, as are kudos and comments.
> 
> (If you know me from twitter keep it quiet.)


End file.
